


Rest Your Head, You're Breaking Down Inside

by FeralCreed



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky has bad nights, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Recovery, Short One Shot, Steve knows how to talk him down and take care of him, Stucky - Freeform, Stucky-centric, established James Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeralCreed/pseuds/FeralCreed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is recovering but still has nightmares. As always, Steve is there for him, to talk him down through his stages of fear and hold him once he's back in the real world.</p><p>Stucky one-shot independent of all my other works. Un-beta'd and written at 12AM after too much sugar, good Lord this is what happens. Any mistakes are my own because I really should know better but these two are so cute (even though I'd probably get my ass handed to me by Tasha for calling them that).</p><p>Title taken from Chameleon Circuit's "Nightmares".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest Your Head, You're Breaking Down Inside

“I'll kill you if you fucking touch me again,” Bucky swore, but it sounded more like a plea than a threat. The underlying tone of _don't hurt me, I'm afraid, please help_ was far louder than any words that made it out of his mouth. Steve had always known him far better than anyone else, but even a total stranger would have known better than to take Bucky's threat seriously. Even if he looked capable of harming anything bigger than a bug, his eyes showed fear and pain rather than hate.

 

“Bucky, please.” Moving as slowly as he could, both hands held up by his shoulders, Steve sank down to a crouch. He was careful not to make eye contact and kept his voice softly quiet. “I know you. Remember? You wouldn't hurt me.” He took a careful half-step forward.

 

“I will!” he yelped, scooting away, metal hand in front him to push the blond away if he got within arm's length.

 

“Okay, okay,” Steve said, retreating two steps. Like Sam had warned him, sometimes things went one step forward and two steps back. He hadn't expected things to be quite so literal. “If I upset you, I'll stay away. But I'm not going to leave you here alone, Bucky.”

 

The dark-haired soldier only fixed him with a cold glare. “The Asset does not have a name.”

 

“Well, fortunately, you're not the Asset any more.” Steve spoke without hesitation, keeping his voice quiet and as level as he could. He still didn't look directly at Bucky, keeping his gaze focused just to the right of the soldier's ribs. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes and you are my friend.”

 

“The Winter Soldier has neither a name nor allies!” he barked, furious gaze coming up to bore through Steve's own eyes.

 

Steve couldn't help a sigh, but there was a bit of relief mingled with his disappointment. Originally, Bucky's nightmares had left him screaming every night. Whether the cries were from fear or agony was always a gamble, but either scenario tore at his insides like nothing else. It had taken weeks for things to fade to a point where he didn't wake himself up nightly. Four months passed until the first time he slept two nights in a row without awakening them both. After that things had progressed quickly, until the episodes happened once weekly instead of six times a week. Some nights were far worse than others, still, but one thing had been clear from the beginning. Bucky progressed from calling himself the Asset to the Winter Soldier to Sergeant to Barnes to Bucky, sometimes skipping names. Things lasted anywhere from minutes to dozens of hours, depending on how panicked and disoriented he was. As far as things went, tonight was going quickly, but the progress could slow dramatically at any time.

 

“You're not under Hydra's control any more, Bucky,” Steve soothed him. Bucky's body tensed, teeth baring in anger, but the blond continued talking. “This is your bedroom in Avengers Tower and you are safe with me. I swear to you, sweetheart, you're safe.”

 

“No,” Bucky whimpered. His left hand was still held out to ward Steve off but his right carded through his hair, tugging at the strands. “It-It's never safe. There's always someone coming. Coming for me. Gonna wipe me again. Again and again and again.” Despite the months that had passed, being taken back to the Chair was the thing Bucky had the most nightmares over. When he had bad days, it was always the blinding electricity that filled his nightmares, more than the anesthetic-less surgery on his arm or even the fall from the train.

 

“Nobody is going to hurt you,” Steve promised. “You have to give your permission for anyone to come in here. It's impossible for Hydra or assassins or torturers to get to you. Even if anybody could get in here, I would protect you, no matter who it was. Before the war, you always kept me safe, and after I became Captain America, you were still never afraid to give me a piece of your mind when I did something stupid.”

 

“He couldn't be saved.” Bucky didn't sound accusatory, just weary beyond exhaustion. Most of the wild panic had faded from his eyes. It still flickered there, but he could manage to bring his gaze as high as Steve's shoulders. When he was truly afraid, he either couldn't make eye contact or stared so hard that even Steve couldn't keep their eyes locked. No matter how traumatized he was by his dreams, no matter how much of his mind had been reclaimed by a killer's instinct, eventually he became so tired that he couldn't make anything sound like an accusation or threat. “ Your Sergeant died in the war.”

 

“I think he did,” Steve agreed. “But there's still someone here with me. A pretty swell fella. He's got loads of charm and some gorgeous looks. Come to think of it, I don't know anybody that doesn't like him at least a little bit. There's some blood on his hands, and I can't deny that, but he wasn't the one that put it there. Someone hurt him so much and I wish I could have saved him from that. Wish I never failed him the way I've done so many times. For some reason he keeps giving me another chance to help him. No idea why he trusts me like that.”

 

“You still managed to save him. He's still your Bucky. He's still here.” Bucky's body rocked forward, like he wanted to go to Steve, but he pushed himself away again, increasing the distance between them. “Still so fucking _broken_.”

 

“And I still love him.” Even though it was a simple handful of words, Steve would rather say them than read dozens of poems or stories about what Bucky meant to him. “I'm still your Steve. Remember the first thing I gave you when you came back to the Tower?” Bucky's gaze flickered toward his bed before settling back on the blond's shoulder. “Uh-huh,” Steve agreed as if the dark-haired soldier had replied. “Your blanket. Do you want it?”

 

The downward tip of Bucky's chin might have been a nod. Steve took the chance that it was and slowly stood up, hearing his knees creak under the soft wisp of fabric against skin. He lowered his hands but still kept them up in the air in front of his stomach. Even though he wasn't afraid of his friend, he kept his eyes on Bucky as he walked in a wide circle around him. There was no movement suggesting that Bucky protested either the movement or the possibility of Steve touching his belongings. With the way Bucky had scrambled around on the floor, Steve was able to keep the bed between them as he tugged a fleece throw blanket from under the comforter. Bucky kept his eyes on Steve just as much, swallowing despite a dry throat.

 

Steve circled back around the bed, still not looking Bucky in the eyes. When he got to be about ten feet away he crouched down again, closing to within arm's length in a shuffle. Then he waited, keeping his gaze somewhere around the concrete near Bucky's bare toes and the blanket outstretched in one hand. After a minute or so, he reached out with his metal fingers, bunching the corner of the blanket between his thumb and forefinger and tugging just enough to bring it toward him. Steve let him take it, shuffling backwards and sideways until he was back to the distance he'd last been standing at. He got to his feet and backed up halfway to the wall before half-circling Bucky on his way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

 

He came back a minute later with a plastic cup full of warm water. While both of them could handle drinking ice-cold water, during episodes like the one Bucky was working through now, Steve didn't want to risk doing anything that could make Bucky worse. The feeling of being frozen could linger in a man's bones like nothing else Steve had ever experienced. In the time it had taken him to pick a cup from the shelf over the towel rack and fill it, Bucky had pulled the blanket over his shoulders like a cape, holding the corners in his hands and wrapping his arms around his knees. Steve could feel a piece of his heart breaking at the way the dark-haired man looked. With everything that happened, it was easy to forget that Bucky was barely thirty years old and that Hydra's torture had taken a mental as well as physical toll.

 

Steve crouched down a few feet away from him, as before, closing the rest of the distance in a shuffling gait. Bucky reached out to take it with his human hand and Steve smiled softly. “Is it okay for me to touch you?” he asked quietly, still not raising his gaze from the cup in Bucky's hand.

 

In reply, Bucky set the cup down and reached across his body to let his hand hang in the air between them. Steve moved his hand underneath the other, cupping his fingers around the heel of Bucky's hand and letting Bucky's fingertips rest on his own palm. “Hey, darling,” he murmured as his hand was squeezed gently.

 

“Hey,” Bucky echoed even more quietly. Although he let go of Steve's hand, he didn't move away. Instead he reached for the cup again, taking a long swallow. When he set it back down it was to his side rather than in front of him and he motioned for Steve to join him. The blond smiled and did as he was asked, sitting down so his back was against the wall and their shoulders were a few inches apart. Bucky was the one who closed the distance between them, putting half his blankets over Steve's shoulders almost shyly.

 

“Why, thank you,” Steve said, looking just enough to the side that he could see Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

 

Bucky looked back at him with a tiny smile. “You're welcome.” To someone who knew him so well, it was obvious that he wanted to ask something else, but instead he turned his gaze back toward the wall in front of them. Steve didn't say anything, choosing instead to focus on a truly interesting speck on the wall. A few minutes passed until he spoke again. “Hug,” he said quietly under his breath, almost whimpering the word.

 

“Of course,” Steve said, barely any louder. He put his hand over Bucky's wrist and slid it up the back of his arm to his shoulder, feeling the smooth fabric of his pajamas under his palm. It was better if the other man could trace his movement's through touch rather than watching, and the hands-on contact was preferred by both of them. Bucky scooted closer, pressing their bodies together from thigh to shoulder, and Steve's fingers curled around the metal bicep. “Is that good?”

 

Bucky nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shuddering sigh. “Thank you.” He curled his fingers together in his lap and rested his head against Steve's shoulder. “You shouldn't have to put up with me.”

 

“End of the line ain't in this life, Buck. I'm afraid you're stuck with me as long as you want to be. But if you say the word I'll go.”

 

“No,” Bucky said instantly, hooking an ankle over Steve's and pressing closer. “Stay.”

 

Steve turned to press a soft kiss against Bucky's temple. “Always, sweetheart. Let me know if you're ever ready to go back to bed, okay?”

 

Bucky only nodded and settled against Steve's body, warm and soft. His breathing was settled now, and the hard lines of tension had left his muscles. They stayed on the floor for another half an hour before Bucky moved again. “'M ready,” he said quietly.

 

“Hold on to your blanket,” Steve told him with another brief kiss against his hair. Once Bucky nodded to him, Steve scooped an arm under his knees and picked him up, carrying him to the bed. Bucky usually protested being picked up with loud squawks and at least one flailing hand, but he'd admitted that after a rough night, nothing could ground him like physical touch. Since asking his permission to do so several months ago, Steve had always carried him to bed unless he was asked otherwise. It took no time at all to pull the blankets up to Bucky's chest, letting the dark-haired man wrap his torso and arms in the fluffier throw the way he liked.

 

Bucky turned over as Steve got into bed, pressing his forehead against Steve's shoulders and letting one of the blond's arms circle his waist. It wouldn't take long for Steve to fall asleep, even after a night like tonight. “Love you,” he whispered. He heard Steve say the words back to him and snuggled closer, breathing in the smell of his dryer sheets and shampoo. Nightmares were rarer these days, but Steve had always kept the bad dreams away. Bucky nosed against Steve's shoulder and let his eyes close. Like Steve had said before, he'd be protected no matter what. It had taken him so long to believe that, but now he couldn't imagine anything else. Steve was already asleep, he realized, and he pressed a soft kiss to his jaw before following him into slumber.

 


End file.
